


Nothing Burns Like the Cold

by TadpoleFarmer



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28061529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TadpoleFarmer/pseuds/TadpoleFarmer
Summary: “Do you know why I called you in here Tubbo?”He’s reminded of how a principal might scold an unruly student before he remembers that this is a far more delicate situation.  “N-no Sir.”Tubbo responds honestly, because he truly doesn’t know why.  He isn’t going to guess either, oh no.  That’d only be giving Schlatt a reason to scream at him.  Better to pretend he has no idea.Safer.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	Nothing Burns Like the Cold

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing, please leave constructive criticism in the comments! I want to get better at this!

Tubbo shivers as he walks through the halls of the White House, headed towards Schlatt’s office. He didn’t used to feel this cold, but ever since the election he just couldn’t seem to get warm.

He rubs his hands together and breathes on them, hoping to rid himself of the numbness. When he arrives at the door to Schlatt’s office, a shiver runs down his spine again. He isn’t sure it's from the cold. He hesitantly knocks against the tall wooden door. “Come in, Tubbo.”

Schlatt’s voice seems neutral now, but Tubbo knows that it could turn on a dime. He takes a deep breath before he swings the door open and steps across the threshold.

Schlatt is sitting at his desk, a half-empty bottle of scotch resting to his right and a small glass beside. “Take a seat.” He says, gesturing to the chair across from him. Tubbo pulls the chair out a bit and obeys, trying not to play with his sleeves anxiously. Schlatt looks at him for a moment—golden yellow eyes and horizontal pupils staring him down—before speaking.

“Do you know why I called you in here Tubbo?” He’s reminded of how a principal might scold an unruly student before he remembers that this is a far more delicate situation. “N-no SIr.” Tubbo responds honestly, because he truly doesn’t know why. He isn’t going to guess either, oh no. That’d only be giving Schlatt a reason to scream at him. Better to pretend he has no idea. Safer.

Schlatt hums at this, before filling the empty glass with whiskey and pushing it in Tubbo’s direction, the amber liquid spilling slightly over the rim. Tubbo looks at him in confusion for a moment. “Drink.” Schlatt says.

“But i’m not-”

“Drink, Tubbo.” Schlatt interrupts, leaving no room for argument. 

Tubbo immediately brings the glass up to his lips and downs it in one go. The scotch burns as it goes down and Tubbo nearly drops the glass when he starts coughing. Schlatt removes the glass from his grip with a low chuckle, setting it back on the desk as Tubbo struggles to clear his throat.

“You’ve been slacking Tubbo.” Schlatt says, when Tubbo finally stops coughing. “You’re my right hand man, I can’t have you just running around doing whatever you want y’know. Don’t you realize how that might reflect on me?” Tubbo could sense an edge beneath those words, and he nods a quiet agreement as he stares down at his hands. Without him even meaning to, he’d started to tug at the stiff sleeves of his suit jacket. 

“Then why?”

He could swear he hears alarm bells ringing. Tubbo looks up, only to shrink back into the chair when he meets Schlatt’s penetrating gaze. The curled edges of his horns suddenly look sharper than they were a few moments ago, and he could swear that Schlatt’s eyes had taken on an odd kind of glow.

“W-what?” He stutters out, fingertips now tearing into the ends of his sleeves and fraying the edges.

“If you KNEW your actions would make me look bad, then WHY would you do it?” All semblance of neutrality was lost as Schlatt leaned across the desk, hands clasped under his chin.

“I- I didn’t think that-”

Schlatt slams his fist straight down onto the empty glass, shattering it.

Tubbo nearly jumps out of the chair at the sudden sound, watching in shock as Schlatt’s blood drips out onto the desk. It’s as if Schlatt doesn’t even seem to notice the shards of glass sticking into his hand.

“That’s right!” He shouts, voice burning with fury. “You DIDN’T think!”

Schlatt moves swiftly to his feet, grabbing Tubbo’s tie and twisting it around his bloodied hand. He pulls him up out of his chair until they’re nearly face to face. Tubbo’s hands fly to the one that has a hold of him, grasping at Schlatt’s wrist. He kicks his legs, trying to stand, but he only succeeds in tipping his chair over backwards as his feet barely brush the floor.

“Are you TRYING to sabotage me?” He yells at Tubbo. The boy claws desperately at Schlatt’s wrist, leaving small scratches behind.

“I put you in my cabinet, I give you a job, I give you responsibility that Wilbur never gave you, and THIS is how you repay me? By making me look bad in front of people?” Schlatt's voice is beginning to fade to a ringing sound in Tubbo’s ears. He tries to breathe, but his lungs refuse to fill—the air doesn’t get past his throat. Schlatt is still shouting, but Tubbo can’t focus on his words. All he feels is the tie around his neck, constricting. Tighter, and Tighter, and Tighter and-

The door flies open with a loud bang.

“SCHLATT!”

Tubbo drops to his knees, gasping and wheezing for breath. hands tearing at the now bloody tie around his throat until it comes loose. He looks up to see Quackity standing just inside the doorway, hands gripping a small stack of papers and wings tucked close to his back.

“I...wanted to speak with you about, uh, these papers.” Quackity weakly lifts said papers for a moment. The room is dead silent besides Tubbo’s heavy breathing and the slow drip of blood onto shattered glass. Schlatt doesn’t even look at Tubbo as he speaks, his voice low and dangerous.

“Close the door on the way out, Tubbo. I need to speak to Alex in private.”

The use of his first name has Quackity clenching the papers in a death grip, and Tubbo doesn’t miss how he immediately looks to the floor to avoid eye contact.

Slowly, Tubbo stumbles to his feet. As he passes by the Vice President, he looks to him for some kind of answer. He wants to say something, anything.

He doesn’t.

As Tubbo walks out, he turns around one last time to close the door behind him. Quackity is hunched over, small wings trembling. Schlatt stares Quackity down as Tubbo shuts the door. He doesn’t wait to hear what happens.

He walks toward his room at a brisk pace, slowly picking up speed until he is sprinting to the only safe haven he has. He pulls himself into the room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him as he sinks to the floor.

He curls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around himself as he begs the tears not to fall. As he tells himself to be brave, like he knows Tommy would be. He tries to imagine for a moment that Tommy is here, with him, like he should be. He imagines his friend pulling him into a hug, like he so often does.

But he’s alone.

Alone in a dark room, and all he feels is the cold.


End file.
